


Old Photographs and Vintage Sweaters

by Petiite



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Parallel Universe, Parallel world, Punk!Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petiite/pseuds/Petiite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is unhappy. He hates the way he lives, and, honestly, he wishes he could do it over. When he's given the chance, he suddenly realizes there's no place like home. During a search for a way back, he ends up falling for another boy- who is supposed to be his enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by this picture; http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/3/15/1331826800760/1950s-photo-of-two-boys-r-007.jpg

Smiles hide so many things, like sorrow, secrets, or irrational behaviors. Here, late at night where everything is cloaked in darkness, those smiles are given a break, and the real feelings can be let free. Harry was well aware of hiding, as he's spent almost his entire life hiding feelings from others. 

Listening to the house around him, the curly-haired boy sighed as his mother's bedroom light clicked off, just down the hall from his room. His own room somehow felt darker, yet he knew that was impossible. Closing his eyes, he fought tears back.

Harry didn't have many regrets, but he regretted not telling others about himself. His own mother- just two doors down- had no idea that he was fighting depression. His best and only friend, Zayn Malik, didn't realize that the scars on his wrist weren't an accident but instead intentional. There was so much he would change.

Maybe he didn't mean it when the words escaped his lips; "I wish I could start over."

The words echoed in his small room, being absorbed into the walls and falling onto deaf ears. Tears spilled from his eyes, whimpering sobs muffled by his pillow. Everything around him felt wrong, from the cold night breeze seeping in from his cracked window to the Ramones shirt draped loosely on his torso.

With nothing but his tears and a small melody from outside, Harry slept, feeling alone in the world.

* * *

Bewildered didn't begin to describe the room Harry woke up to. His small bedroom, twin bed and single dresser, was gone. He was now in a large wooden room, languid to his eyes, but would please others; football merchandise of an awkward-looking cat, team colors painted among the walls. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up, the curly-haired boy found himself no longer in his tee shirt. He was shirtless, and wearing a pair of flannel pants that drooped over his feet. His arms- before marked with pen and scarred with razors- were now clean and strong. 

He quickly hurried to the window, opening it and looking out upon a small town. Within his horizon he could see a church tower, far on the opposite side. Walls wrapped around the town, and Harry gulped. This was not his town, and he kept scanning the area. Not even two blocks from his house was a school building, and the same distance the other way was a park.

None of this was familiar.

"Harry," a voice called from outside his door. "Time to wake up, class starts in half an hour." He recognized that. That was his mother. At least she was here- but she didn't seem as scared as he felt- or maybe this was another version of his mother.

"Y-yeah, I'm awake Mum," he responded, closing the curtains and turning to stare back at the room. Not  _his_ room, but a room. Harry ran a hand through his hair, stumbling through the mess on the floor. There was a closet on the opposite side of the room, and after pulling it open, he was flabbergasted to see only button-downs, jumpers, and blazers. His pants were folded and stacked. This was not his usual attire, and he knew it right away. 

After deciding on a soft red jumper paired with the tightest trousers he could find, Harry cautiously opened the bedroom door to find just stairs, no other rooms on his story. He descended the steps and swung into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to his mother's cheek. 

"You're surprisingly loving today," she snarked, but the curly-haired boy knew that she enjoyed it. She turned to face him, and looked taken aback at his outfit. "What's this?" 

He looked over his body and realized that no, maybe this wasn't okay. "I, uh, the rest of my trousers were dirty," He lied, making a mental note to wear less fitting clothing.

Shrugging, his mother handed him a plate of eggs. "Eat well, you need the protein. My silly little kid."

At least his mother was the same, even if Harry was terrified.

* * *

The door closed behind him, and Harry was once again subject to a world that was foreboding and uneasy. Across the street, a blond boy ran towards the curly-haired, waving excitedly. 

"Harry!" he yelled, stopping in front of the taller one. "What on earth are ye wearing? Lose a bet?" The irish accent was strong, and Harry still couldn't place him.

"Uh..." He stuttered, wishing it was a bad dream. Yes. This was all just a dream. A specter he had fallen into, and this was just another person he'd seen in the streets that was fogging his night.

"You okay, mate?" The boy furrowed his eyebrows. "You're off today."

"I, uh," Harry started, confused and gulping. "I don't know who you are. I don't know where I am. I'm, uh, not sure what's going on," he confessed, scratching his arm.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm uh, I made a wish last night that I could try again and I woke up this morning in a completely different bedroom," the curly-haired boy whispered, taking steps toward the school. "I'm Harry, yeah, but I'm from Holmes Chapel."

"Uh," The blond tilted his head to look at the brunet carefully. "This is Holmes Chapel. Or, at least, it was. It was renamed to Chappela after the Apocalypse of 2010." 

"That can't be- I'm from  _2013._ There wasn't any Apocalypse." Harry scrunched his face, fighting tears again. 

"2013? You're lying. It's 3054 right now, and there was  _definitely_ an Apocalypse. This is one of the twenty towns that managed to survive." the irishman set his hand on the brunet's shoulder blade, smiling. "I'm Niall," he grinned.

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"It's not like you chose to be here- well, I guess you did make a wish, huh?" Niall shrugged as they entered the school building. "For now, just roll with everything. Harry was kind of a bully, so act arrogant and, if possible, be mean."

Harry looked around, upset at the new turn of events. A bully? Why a bully? He did want to start over, but he didn't want this. "Don't tell anyone what I told you, okay?"

"Swear on my life. This's yer locker, meet me here after class."

After pointing him to his classroom, Niall waved and walked off, leaving the curly-haired boy alone in the crowd of people.

Great.

* * *

Not all things appeared as a curse. Here, Harry found himself being known- and liked- by more than half of his classmates, which was a drastic difference from his old life. The classroom was stale, and talked about things that the curly-haired boy didn't understand(the rampage of 1984, the revolution of 1985). He felt terrible about not being able to raise his hand and participate the way he had done in his school, but maybe it was alright.

At least the other Harry was a dunce, he thought to himself. No one expected him to know the answer.

"Harry!" Another voice called, and, after a brief wince, he turned to face the direction. There in front of him was another boy. His hair was short and styled upwards, drawing all attention to his brown-eyes and pink lips. "Hey Harry, what are you wearing?"

"He lost a bet," Niall's voice laughed, a hand setting on the brunet's shoulder. Thank god for him, the curly-haired boy smiled to himself. "What's up, Liam?"

 _Liam._ Harry could remember that. That was an easy name, and yeah, he kinda looked like a Liam.

"Classes were hell, like always. Wanna hit the malt shop?" The short-haired guy grinned, increasing Harry's trust. "Pop has a great special right now. Milkshake for only a quid."

Quids. Harry knew Quids. That was one thing he knew. How had the currency changed, he wondered briefly.

Niall flashed the brunet a look, and the curly-haired boy understood.

"Actually, I promised Mum I would be home. Sorry, mate," He lied-  _again,_ why was he lying so much today? "Next time."

"Yeah, sounds good. You in Nialler?"

"Greg wanted me home to play FIFA- I did promise him, though, so I should probably go. Raincheck on the milkshake though, that sounds great." the blond smiled, giving Liam a quick hug. "We'll see you monday, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course!" he grinned, returning the hug.

Harry grinned, all the way until he and Niall had left sight. He let his muscles relax, and there was a second of sorrow before he turned to the blond and faked a grin. 

Thank god it was friday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my third time writing this chapter. The first time, I was almost done with it and my dad accidentally deleted everything. The second time, my draft didn't save. So if it isn't as good as it could be, I'm really sorry. I'm frustrated with this chapter.  
> Also the reason this took so long.

Niall stood from the dinner table and collected the plates, carrying them to the kitchen with his older brother, Greg. He had invited the brunet over, wanting to talk, and had coaxed him into staying the night.

"So, Harry," Mr. Horan boomed, his toothy grin very reminiscent to the blond in his kitchen. "How have classes been?"

The curly-haired boy took a second to try to figure out how to respond, before returning the grin. "Same old, y'know? Dumb," he laughed.

A momentary glance at the father told him that no, that wasn't something Harry would say, but at least he tried, right? That was something.

"C'mon Harry, let's go upstairs," the blond boy quickly saved him, taking his arm and pulling. 

Harry quickly stood up, and started down the hall to where he had seen the steps earlier.

" _Is Harry feeling okay?_ " the father whispered, just loud enough to be heard.

" _Rough day,_ " Niall responded quickly, replying over his shoulder.

Swallowing a lump in his throat and climbing the stairs, the curly-haired boy hit his head against the low ceiling. The pain was brief but took his mind off the embarrassment for a second. He swung a door open at the top of the steps and entered into a bedroom that was obviously once an attic, remodeled once upon a time. A large bed in the corner, covered in plaid bedsheets and a green blanket. His hardwood floor was hidden by a shaggy green rug, soft to the touch and seemed very Niall-like. 

"So why did you drag me here?" Harry chuckled nervously, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

The blond grinned as he pulled an large, dusty book out from his bookcase. "I thought I could show you people and teach you about relationships and whatever," Niall brought the book over and laid down on the bed, inviting the curly-haired boy to join him. 

Harry smiled, "Thanks," and then stretched over the king-sized mattress. 

Opening the book to a page full of pictures and names, the irishman traced his finger to a picture. "This is Liam Payne. You met him earlier today," he smiled. "You two've known each other since secondary school. Best friends, partners in crime. He'd always talk you out of trouble when you'd pick on people."

"Poor Liam," the brunet sighed, running his hands through his own curls. "Why did I have to be a bully?"

Niall shrugged, before sliding his index finger over to a very attractive woman. "Now this is Caroline Flack. You two were dating but broke up last month. You've been banging all of her friends since and oh boy does she hate you," he cackled, rolling onto his side. "She's currently avoiding you with a ten foot pole, but, like every other girl in our school, her friends are attracted to you and would fuck you in a heartbeat."

Tears stung at Harry's eyes, as he set his mass of curls down onto the pillow. "I'm a  _player_?" his voiced cracked, heavy with pain. It was bad enough that he was still a virgin, but to have to pretend to like women? "I've never even," he cut himself off with a muffled sob,hiding his face in the soft fabric. 

Arms wrapped loosely around his waist, pulling the tall teen into a tight hug. "Aw, Hazza," Niall cooed, rubbing circles into his mate's back. "Don't worry, yeah? You've got me."

He let out another sob and curled into the irishman's chest, digging his fingertips into his mate's back. The fabric bunched between his fingers and shook lightly with his sobs.

"Shh, Harry," the blond whispered, embracing him closely. 

Harry was scared. He had never asked for this. He never asked to be here, he had never wanted to be a bully, or a player, or anything. 

The blond muttered sweet nothings into the mass of curls, and gently tucked them under the green fabric, wrapping them together.

* * *

Harry woke up in a bundle of sweat; he had never been good with excess amounts of heat. Hands tugged at his shirt, pressing his body against a smaller one. He swallowed nervously, confused about where he was and who was cuddling into his chest. 

Warm breath hit against his neck, causing the brunet's breath to hitch. Someone was laying right next to him. Breathing on him. Cuddling him. A  _boy_ , he decided, his hands tracing over his bedmate's torso. No breasts, hips, or any other form of curves. Very male, that's for sure. 

Pulling back the green blanket, his eyes traced over a face that reminded him of everything that had happened the day previous. 

Right.

Niall.

With his breathing back to normal and any sexual tension he had felt gone, Harry slowly removed the blond's grip before sitting up and pulling the blanket off his legs. He stood and stretched his arms up to the sky. His back made a small popping noise, and he bent over, reaching his arm into a small bag he had packed before heading over. He brought out a pair of black joggers- they were common in his closet, so he assumed that he wore them often- and changed quickly. Stripping off his shirt and replacing it with a short-sleeved button down, he yawned and stuffed his old clothing back into the bag.

"didn even wake me, huh?" The irish accent filled the silence, startling Harry. The brunet turned and saw the blond grinning at him. He could hardly fight the smile tugging at his lips. "Leavin' already?"

"Gonna go scope out the town," The curly-haired boy replied, running his fingers through the blond locks, earning a small purr. "Go back to sleep."

"I'll seeya monday, yeah?"

"Yeah," he grinned, rolling his eyes and quietly descending the stairs. Thankful that no one else was awake, he left the house, closing the door behind him. The sun hit against his slightly-tanned skin, shining into his eyes. Harry crossed the street and opened his own front door quickly, dropped his bag, and left once more. His mom didn't expect him home until afternoon, so he had the rest of the morning- it was only 8:15, according to his watch- to explore. 

The curly-haired boy set down the street opposite of the way to the school, since he already knew what was that way. He quickly came upon the park he had seen the morning before. It was very manicured, the grass all green,  _too_ green, all cut the same length, with trees all the exact same shape and size. He crossed through it, finding it the easiest way to the other side.  

Harry strolled through a residential area, watching a group of kids at the end of a street. He briefly recognized a few of them, from school and maybe a few he couldn't quite place.  Following the sidewalk, he stumbled through what he placed as downtown, with a music store on his left and a thrift store following it. The town had a lot of spiralling streets, and the boy was convinced that he could get lost quite easily, should he be actually looking for something. As he was just wandering, he figured it didn't matter. He saw a library and committed the spot to memory; that would be useful to catch up in school. If he was going to start over, he would at least take care of his education. 

There was a restaurant,  department store, and a small cafe. He briefly wondered where his favorite hangout place was, but couldn't come up with an answer.  In the distance, he saw yet another park, and rolled his eyes. Did the town have to be so manicured? Still, he made his way straight towards it and was there in only a few minutes. 

The lake was glittering with sunlight, and Harry went right to the shore, before sitting himself down. The grass was slightly damp, and he could feel it soaking through his pants. Harry laid back, closing his eyes and letting the sun wash over him. 

Even this, something he usually enjoyed, felt unusual and uncomfortable. Not that he minded the scenery; the lake was something he had liked.

There was a shout, a splash, and then Harry felt water splash across his legs, a few drops making their way onto his cheeks.

He shot up and watched someone pop their head out of the water. 

"Are you- Are you okay?" the brunette whimpered, reaching his hand out for the guy to grasp. The boy swam closer, and Harry could see all of his features come into view; he had short caramel-colored hair, obviously styled before he had taken the swim. His eyes were a stunning blue, and his cheeks were only the slightest bit flushed. The curly-haired boy's breath hitched as he eyed the boy. He didn't realize his mouth had opened until he slammed it shut. 

The boy was frowning at him.

The  _perfect_ boy.

The boy that Harry was  _definitely_ not falling for.

"Like you  _fucking_ care, Styles," he spat, his voice grainy and rough and  _ugh_ it made Harry's stomach do things that he didn't like. "Get out of my face."

The curly-haired boy's eyebrows furrowed, and maybe he couldn't hide the pain in his eyes, because the other's face turned into a look of surprise and confusion. 

He stood up quickly and stormed off, brushing the curly locks out of his eyes. 

_fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

His windowsill was just large enough for him to sit on, so Harry pressed his body against the cold glass. His mother had already gone to bed, her room being downstairs, and it was quiet. So quiet, it almost seemed maddening. The inside of his room was illuminated by the moonlight pouring through his window, shading the cold, dark room harshly. Since returning from the lake, he had torn some posters from the wall, cursing at the air.

Eyes red and swollen from crying, Harry had calmed down and was admiring the sleeping town. The walls were large, seemingly unbreakable, but so terribly unfriendly. Guards were patrolling the top, eyeing around the city. With a shudder, the brunet thought about how he might be forced to stay indefinitely.

Sure, he hated his old life. He hated himself. He wanted to start over. But this- this world was too much for him. Harry tried not to cry as his mind flashes over his best friend, Zayn, and suddenly was worried. What if the other Harry was a jerk to his only friend? What if Zayn wasn't his friend anymore when he came back? There were so many questions. There were so many fears.

He bit his lip and, leaning his forehead against the window pane, nodded off.

* * *

Harry's eyes shot open, revealing a pure white room. Comfortable and inviting, the curly-haired boy noticed that there was a doorway on the other side of the room, and, turning to look behind him, he was standing in front of one. 

Swallowing nervously, he opened his mouth, "H-Hello?" before taking a step forward.

His own voice responded, "Finally, you've arrived," and someone shot up from a couch. To his own surprise, Harry was staring right at Harry. At  _himself._ "I've been here for twenty minutes."

"Are you," the original whispered, aghast. "Are you  _me?_ "

"No, I'm Godzilla. Of course I'm you, git!" he snapped, and Harry immediately realized why the perfect boy had glared at him.  _I would hate someone if they acted like this,_  he thought.

"So, uh..."

"Sit down. We have to talk."

Not wanting to get on his bad side, Harry immediately threw himself into a white armchair. "Uh, I'm Harry. Oh, but you're Harry too, I guess..."

"Did you have to be such a nerd?" The second Harry responded, groaning and laying out across the sofa. "That prick, Zayn, had to cover for me in classes. Seriousl-"

"Zayn is  _NOT_ a prick!" The curly-haired boy shouted, furrowing his brows. Insult him, sure. Nothing. Insult any of his friends, and you might as well have asked to be hit.

The other blinked, assumedly unfazed. "Right. Sorry. Friendly," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "What do I need to know to get along until we figure this out?"

"Well, for one, I'm soft spoken and  _patient._ " Harry growled, already upset. "I do well in classes and I  _don't_ flirt with women."

"You don't know what you're missing," the second one laughed, but nodded. "I can control myself, I suppose."

"What do I need to know?" The original whispered, unwilling to change. 

"I  _love_ sex. All the time," The second Harry thrusted into the air as a punctuation of sorts. "I'm on the football team when it comes around, so don't get any extra weight."

"I'm not going to have sex with anyone!"

"Virgin."

"Fine! Whatever. I'll play along," He groaned, getting up and heading back to his own door. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'll study sometimes," The second one laughed. "Just don't ruin my rep or whatever."

Frustrated with the second one, the original Harry threw open his door and stormed back in.

* * *

He didn't sleep very well that night.

* * *

Sun shone down on his face as Harry stared up into the morning sky. Early sunday morning, he assumed that everyone would've been at church, but Religion had apparently been abolished. Rolling his eyes and glancing to his right, he noticed the perfect boy with cerulean eyes and a voice that caused him to faint coming closer. 

He hadn't seemed to notice the curly-haired boy, who immediately scrambled for the bank under the bridge. He thought maybe, maybe, he couldn't be seen in these shadows. 

Footsteps echoed around him, before stopping at what he felt like was right above him.

"Some people have been acting really weird," the perfect voice said, suspicious toned. "Almost like they aren't themselves."

Harry covered his mouth, forcing himself to be ungodly quiet. 

"I wonder what's been going on with him recently," he said again, causing the brunet's stomach to tighten. He had to know the other Harry well to recognize the difference.

In a fluid movement, the carmel-haired boy flipped over the side of the bridge, his torso hanging over. _His upper arm strength must've been massive._  Harry bit back a moan as he thought about what those arms could do to him. The curly-haired boy scooted away, trying to keep up appearances.

"What's up, Styles?" The blue-eyed, pink-lipped perfection squinted, huffing. "You've been weirder than normal."

In his best attempt to be a jerk, Harry spat out, "You don't fucking  _know_ me."

The perfect boy cracked a smile and started laughing, causing the curly-haired boy's heart to stop. He was so  _gorgeous_ , and for the other Harry to have  _this_  boy as an enemy seemed almost unreal.

"You're a freak, Harold," He grinned, disappearing from view. Footsteps ran off the bridge and the brunet heard different voices off in the distance, to who he assumed the boy was meeting.

"Ugh!" He cried, tugging at his own hair. This was so frustrating, and he was struggling to adapt. 

 


End file.
